


Ghost Included (we hope)

by pocky_slash



Series: Team Shithead [11]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Family Issues, Gen, Ghosts, Graduate School, M/M, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8306917
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: John brought Alex a haunted chair. John is the best boyfriend.(AKA why is John such an asshole to Burr?)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy folks! Happy Monday! 
> 
> If you are new here, [i saw the whole story unwind](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7927810) gives the background of this verse! Read it, if you'd like--it's October, after all, and somewhere in all the feelings and kissing there are some ghosts. Or don't read it--all you have to know is that the gang are graduate students studying ghost hunting.
> 
> For the old guard, thanks, as usual, for your support. I realized when editing this that there's one reference to a story I haven't posted yet. I forgot that reference was in there when I created the posting order. Oops. So, if there's a line about the boys' relationship that throws you, uh...stay tuned for Friday. (Hopefully. I've still gotta finish that one.)
> 
> This one was spurred on by **firstbreaths** , because it turns out that when you're writing 300k words of ghosthunter AU for nine months, people start sending you every [ghost-related tumblr post](http://fourteenacross.tumblr.com/post/145971629616/firstbreaths-catgenerator-so-my-bf-and-i) and tweet and you feel compelled to write about all of them.

Alex is reading a stack of letters from early 50s, background research for a possible disturbance they're investigating in the evening, when his phone begins to buzz its way across the lab table. It catches his attention for two reasons: first, because it's the only noise in the room save for the hum of the computers and the quiet rustle of pages as he and Burr shift through documents. Second, because there's really only one person who ever calls Alex and that person is now going on thirty minutes late.

"Hey," Alex says, tucking his phone between his ear and shoulder and refocusing his attention on the letter in front of him.

"Hey, baby," John says. And that brings Alex's attention right back to the phone call.

"What do you want?" 

"Why do you think I want anything?" John asks. "I don't want anything. Why would I want anything?"

"Because I can't remember the last time you started a phone call with anything other than ‘hey, asshole.'"

"I'm being affectionate!" John insists. "I'm, you know, tapping into my endless love for--yeah, okay, I need you to come out and help me bring something inside. Is Lafayette there?"

Alex rolls his eyes and is absently glad that John isn't around to see how much he's smiling at the whole exchange. "Nope." He pops the ‘p' just a little and copies a key phrase from the letter into his notebook. "Just me and Burr."

"Great," John says. "Bring Burr too. I'm out in the parking lot." And then he hangs up.

In seven months, Alex can't think of a single time John as used the word ‘great' to describe anything that has to do with Aaron Burr. This is probably going to be interesting, if nothing else.

"Hey, John needs help with something," Alex says to Burr, rolling over to poke his arm with the eraser end of a pencil.

"Laurens needs help with a lot of things," Burr mutters, and Alex is torn between sharp, vehement defense of his boyfriend and resigned agreement. Instead, he goes for the third option.

"Specifically he needs help...carrying something, I guess? I don't know. I told him we'd give him a hand."

Burr stands up with excruciating slowness, sighing as he does so, making sure that Alex is well aware of what a burden this is. Alex ignores it all, as usual, and gestures for Burr to follow him out into the parking lot.

John is leaning against the side of one of the parapsych vans. Alex is very familiar with the look on his face, and predicts they're in for an exciting afternoon.

"What's up?" Alex asks once they're within shouting distance. John doesn't say anything, just goes around to the back of the van and pulls the doors open. Alex jogs across the parking lot, Burr reluctantly on his heels, and freezes once he sees the inside of the van.

He struggles for something to say at the sight of the worn brown armchair. _FREE HAUNTED CHAIR_ , says the sign taped to it. Then, in smaller letters, _Ghost included, we hope_.

He settles on saying something pithy as he tries to process what he's seeing. "Now, gumdrop, you know that's going to clash with the living room furniture." 

"What," Burr says flatly. And John's mouth curls into his sharpest smirk.

"Saw it on the side of the road," John says. "I figured, who better to pick it up, right? Plus, you know, free chair."

"Are you _kidding_?" Burr says. Alex really has to marvel at John's ability to get Burr to show any emotion at all. His genial, inoffensive mask is nearly unshakable, outside of some condescending eye-rolling, but John gets under his skin effortlessly.

To be honest, Alex is a little jealous. Burr's lack of conviction drives Alex crazy and it only gets worse when he listens to Alex's aggravated ranting and then brushes him off. He'd kill for a reaction like the kind John constantly seems to engender.

"That's what we do, isn't it?" John says. "Help the public get rid of their ghosts?"

"I don't know why you insist of making a mockery of this profession, not when you turn around and pick fights with any stranger who dares to question it," Burr says.

"Hey, at least I know what I believe, which is more than I can say for you," John replies, just as coolly.

"John," Alex murmurs. As much as he enjoys seeing Burr ruffled, he's still their co-worker and he and John probably shouldn't get into a fistfight in the parking lot.

Burr makes a few aborted gestures, then shakes his head and turns around, stalking back towards the school.

"I have actual work to do," he snaps as he goes. John waves cheerfully and Alex watches until Burr disappears inside the building again, the door swinging shut behind him. Once he's gone, the mean edge to John's smile fades away and he sits on the back bumper of the van. Alex joins him, knocking their shoulders together affectionately as he sits down.

"It'll be a bitch to bring it in just the two of us, but that was worth it," John says. 

"Wait," Alex says, "this isn't just trash?" He looks over his shoulder at the chair, worn and faded with the stupid, hand-lettered posterboard sign. "Are you serious?"

John doesn't say anything, but he does lean back into the back of the van. When he straightens up, he's holding his tablet. He taps the screen a few times and then hands it to Alex, and Alex whistles lowly. The screen shows a series of photo thumbnails, all of which include the chair and a distinct ghostly presence hovering around it. The presence remains when the chair is at the side of the road, when it's further down the sidewalk, and when it's in the van.

"Holy shit," he says, handing back the tablet. "It really is a haunted chair."

"I didn't pick it up off the side of the road for shits and giggles," John says. "And can you imagine the look on Lafayette's face if we tried to bring this stupid thing back to the apartment?"

Alex does try to imagine it, just for a second, because it's hilarious.

"Why didn't you just show these to Burr?" Alex asks. John shrugs. He leans back on his elbows and grins up at Alex, the goofy grin with too many teeth. His cheeks are a little pink right at his cheekbones and his hair is trying to escape its elastic and he picked up a _haunted chair_ off of the side of the road and Alex is suddenly aware of how incredibly in love he is.

"I wanted to fuck with him a little," John says. He blows a stray curl off his forehead, or tries to. After the second failed attempt, Alex reaches out to tuck it behind his ear, out of the way.

"You always want to fuck with him," Alex says. It's been months now of John making vaguely insulting comments with the world's most innocent smile, stealing Burr's food out of the refrigerator, undercutting Burr in harmless ways in classes, letting backhanded compliments fly over the comms when they're out on cases. It never seems malicious, really, just low-key constant, an annoying buzz in Burr's ear. In fact--

"Do you want to actually fuck him?" Alex asks. A laugh sputters out of John.

"No!" he says on the tail of it. "I mean--he's really hot, so in that sort of base, hypothetical, objective way, I'd totally fuck him. But Burr-as-Burr? No."

"Because I'd be a total hypocrite if I told you you couldn't," Alex says.

"I don't want to fuck Burr," John promises. 

"Then why the constant need to bother him?" Alex asks.

John rolls his eyes and sighs, dropping his weight from his elbows so he's lying flat on his back, the top of his head nearly brushing the edge of the chair when he's stretched out like this. He kicks his feet. He doesn't say anything.

"Seriously," Alex says.

"What does it matter?" John asks. "It's not a big deal."

"No," Alex says slowly. "But it's obviously something. Made more obvious by the fact that you're avoiding it."

"Oh, shut up," John mutters. 

Alex lowers himself onto his side, his head propped up on one elbow and the scratchy van carpeting already prickling the skin of his arm. He looks down at John, who's pointedly looking anywhere else. Alex drags the tip of his finger from the edge of John's t-shirt sleeve down to his wrist and then back up.

"Come on," he says. "It's just me."

"Why do we always have to do this?" John groans. "Why can't a thing just be a thing? Why does there have to be a deeper meaning? Why do you have to care what the deeper meaning is?"

"Because I care about you, shithead," Alex says. "And a neon fucking flashing sign that something is bothering you is the way you abruptly refuse to talk about it anymore. I don't want you to be bothered, so I want to know what those things are and the only way I can find out is by asking, unless I want to get into like, fucking sitcom-style assumptions and misunderstandings."

"Sitcom hi-jinks are good for the soul," John says, but he also sighs and turns his head towards Alex. He still can't quite make eye contact, chewing anxiously on his lower lip, but Alex knows by now the signs that John's on the verge of saying what he needs to say.

"It's not Burr in particular," John says. "I mean, it is. But it's more...he's so obsessed with appearances, with being what's expected of him. Honoring his parents' legacy, or whatever, but...it's just another reason not to do what he really wants. Not to be true to himself. And I hate that."

Alex hums in acknowledgement and runs the tip of his finger up and down John's arm again. John shivers and glances up at him.

"I hate it because--that was me, right? Before...before coming here. Back when I was at Harvard and I was going to go to law school because that's what my dad wanted. That was more important to me than being myself. It had to be--I couldn't let my dad down. And I hated that person--I hated myself while I was doing it. But the thing with Burr is that there's no one to let down. He doesn't have a dad telling him to do the thing, he's just doing it anyway, hedging his bets, _choosing_ to hide what he believes. And I can't stand that. I can't fucking stand it."

Alex is quiet. He takes John's hand, interlacing their fingers and tracing a path between the freckles on the back of it. "I never thought about it that way," he finally says. John lowers his eyes, fixing them on a spot across the parking lot. Alex reads what he can between the lines, what he's gathered from spending seven months attached to John's hip. He reads John's lingering regret, his disappointment that his father didn't fight harder for him, his resentment that Burr's path of legacy is this field, a field that John gave up his family for. That Burr gets to do this job and still make his family proud and still doesn't have the guts to commit one way or the other.

"But also," John adds after a lengthy pause, "I fucking love the face he makes when I steal his pudding cups from the fridge. It's a goddamn riot. He looks like he's gonna have an aneurysm every time."

Alex laughs unexpectedly and squeezes John's hand. It's absolutely true--he can picture Burr's face clearly in his mind, the way his eye twitches and the corner of his mouth curls down and his whole expression freezes, like he's seconds away from tearing John a new one and only holding onto his composure by the most fragile of strings.

It is, definitely, pretty damn funny.

"You're such a goddamn asshole, you know that?" he says.

"I do, actually," John replies with a smirk.

"But you're my goddamn asshole."

"I knew that, too," John says. He pushes himself up so he's sitting on the edge of the van again and glances over his shoulder. "But, the point of all of that wasn't even to piss off Burr, that was just an added bonus."

Right. Alex almost forgot. He smiles slowly, shaking his head.

"You brought me a _haunted chair_!"

"I know, right? I'm the best boyfriend." John gives him that awkward, toothy grin again, just as another car rolls into the parking lot. Molly Ludwig is behind the wheel, and Alex sits up as well, waving to greet her as she exits the car and makes her way over to them.

"Holy shit!" she yells as soon as she's close enough to be heard. "Is that the fucking Twitter chair?"

"It is!" John says. _'Twitter chair?'_ Alex mouths to him, frowning, as Molly jogs the rest of the way over.

"I was just texting Ben to see if he wanted to go try and find it and get it! I can't believe you got there first!"

"'Twitter chair?'" Alex tries again, out loud this time.

"The dude I got it from was tweeting about it, apparently," John says. "I didn't know until after I picked it up--it was fate, right? I don't even normally use that road to get to the library, but...I don't know, something made me take that back way instead and I saw the guy and the chair. He let me have it and warned me that he'd been tweeting about it and his tweets were picking up traction."

"And it's really haunted?" Molly asks, all but climbing over them to get closer to it. John reaches back for his tablet again and passes it over to her. "Holy _shit_ , I'm so jealous! The entire internet is gonna be so jealous!"

"You brought me a _famous_ haunted chair?" Alex asks, eyes widening.

"Anything for you, baby," John says. "It totally wasn't selfish or opportunistic at all. All for you." To Molly, he says, "Can you help us take it in? Alex weighs like, six pounds and has baby noodle arms."

"If I can hang out while you analyze it? Hell yeah." Molly strips off her too-big hoodie and pushes a pouting Alexander out of the way.

"I'm taller than you are!" he says to John. It's a fact that he clings to, even though it rarely makes any difference. Molly's even shorter than John, barely 5'5" and chubby, but the two of them lift the chair out of the van and onto the ground like it's nothing. Maybe Alex should actually go to the gym with John one of these days.

"Let me just grab my bag and I'll help you take it in," Molly says, and jogs back over to her car.

"Burr is gonna flip when he finds out it really is haunted," Alex says, looking at the old chair and the stupid sign once again.

"Yup," John says, grinning. Alex opens his mouth to say more and falters for a second. He spends just the space of a breath picking out exactly what he needs to say, but it's still longer than he usually waits before speaking.

"And you're doing the right thing," is what he says. "Being here, leaving, being your own person--you're doing the right thing. I hope it's better here. I hope--I hate the idea of you hating yourself, because you're so...." He gestures futilely. Some day he's going to be able to succinctly summarize all that John is. "You're good at this. You're so good at it, and don't ever doubt that you made the right choice."

Some of the mirth drains out of John's expression, replaced with something quiet and unreadable. He sucks on his lower lip for a second, staring at Alex before he replies, softly, "I don't."

"Good," Alex says. He wants to say something more, something he's sure John would class as 'unforgivably maudlin,' something about how meeting John changed his life, how he can't imagine doing this without him, how he's never felt this way before and it makes him dizzy and euphoric every day.

Molly saves John from another emotional outburst by skipping back over, backpack securely on her shoulders, hoodie tied around her waist.

"You can make heart-eyes at each other later, let's get this thing inside," she says.

"We can make heart-eyes at each other and walk at the same time," Alex assures her.

"Shut up, Hamilton," John says, flushing a little. "It's not like you're going to be any help."

"I'm going to be chivalrous and hold the doors for you!" Alex insists.

"Then stop gabbing and get to it!" Molly says. "I want to learn everything about this thing and I'm skipping lunch to do it."

"Well, we can't have that," John says. "There are some pudding cups in the fridge in Washington's lab, you can help yourself."

Alex chokes on a laugh, rushing ahead of them to get the door as they lift the chair from the pavement.

"Such a shithead," he says, shaking his head.

"You wouldn't like me if I wasn't," John reminds him, and Alex can't disagree. "Now shut up and let's get this thing inside."

"You're right," Alex says, and leads the way for them to bring the chair back into the lab.

**Author's Note:**

> Friday: John deals with one of the more tiresome side-effects of major depression. Alex isn't sure how he feels about the solution.


End file.
